


through the wormhole with tony stark and bruce banner (a compendium of notes and observations on alien-space-god-vikings and their behavior)

by nefelokokkygia



Series: tony stark: master of the universe [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Science Bros, aesir behavior 101, bruce's life is just one giant facepalm, but a good ass-kicking fixed most of them, far into the future, loki still has issues, tony is going to get himself killed, weird alien biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefelokokkygia/pseuds/nefelokokkygia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alien biology is <i>weird</i>.</p><p>(each chapter stands on its own; new chapters added as ideas pop in.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i really need to stop.

"At the end of the day, they're still _aliens_."

Bruce sighs, crumpling a digital projection of various parts and tossing them into an equally digital recycle bin.

"I mean, how cool is that?" Tony continues, flinging the prototype of an arc-reactor generator like the one powering the Tower towards the gamma specialist. "Granted, we don't know much about Asgard outside of what Thing One and Thing Two tell us, and honestly, there are myths I would believe before some of the shit that comes out of their mouths. But it's a completely alien culture and society, potentially with rules and stuff we humans have never even come up with." Bruce catches the miniaturized model and spreads his hands, pulling it apart to inspect its inner workings. The billionaire tinkers with calculations and diagrams on one of the many glass screens hung around the lab, eyes meeting the scientist's as they both work. "Doesn't that make you even the littlest bit curious?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm not sure Thor and Loki would take kindly to becoming your next science experiment," Dr. Banner says amusedly, rubbing his glasses on his shirt and swiping a hand through his hair. Tony makes a disappointed noise in his throat ( _petulant child not getting his way, variation three_ , Bruce files away for future reference). The brunet lazily flings a digital clump of wires at the gamma scientist's head with a huff.

"But there's so much about them we don't know, and don't you wanna know?" Stark questions fervently, hands waving and moving in excitement, gently hitting digital generator parts in the space around his head. "How do the two of them devour thousands of dollars worth of groceries in a single week? How does magick interact with Thor's body and allow him to do his lightning thing without getting killed? And don't even get me started on Loki and all the shape-shifting and duplication shit. These are real-live aliens, Bruce; who knows what kind of weird biological shit goes on in there?"

"You're a human being," the bespectacled brunet replies, "and I'm starting to question what kind of weird biological shit is going on in _your_ brain right now."

"You're a genius," Tony retorts, fine-tuning a portion of the arc-generator model on the other side of room, "I'm sure you can figure it out."

"You're like a kid in a candy store, except this candy is highly reactive and potentially very dangerous."

"Seriously Bruce, you are no fun whatsoever. The best kind of entertainment is the kind you aren't supposed to have."

"I prefer my entertainment a little more safe and a lot more relaxed," Dr. Banner says, tossing his portion of the expanded projection back to Tony. "Aren't you supposed to be a genius? I thought you knew this stuff."

"Fuck you," the billionaire retorts without any bite, back turned towards the gamma specialist as he works. Bruce laughs, returning the digital clump of wires to the back of Tony's head.

"Not for free."

 

 

"You're actually serious about this, aren't you."

Dr. Banner finds Tony in the spacious lounge complex of Avengers Tower, tablet in hand and eyes trained on the golden-haired _Aesir_ currently devouring half the expansive refrigerator's contents. Jane sits next to him at the kitchen island, her single sandwich meager next to Thor's three dirty dishes and counting. Clint and Natasha are playing Wii on the other end of the room, quietly-threatening whispers emanating from their direction. Loki's helmet from his failed attempt at world domination (re: temper tantrum) hangs ominously over the fireplace.

"When am I ever not serious about _science_?" Stark questions, voice low so that no one but Bruce can hear him.

"Point," Bruce concedes, sitting down next to him with a tablet of his own, originally planning on reading some newly-published scientific papers and discussing them with Dr. Foster, not keeping Tony Stark out of potential trouble.

"Let's start with Point Break," the billionaire begins, flicking his fingers across the tablet's clear surface, bringing up diagrams and charts and lists of information Bruce vaguely recalls from the Avengers Initiative info packets Fury had given them. "He's six-five and clocks in at over 450 pounds; he doesn't look a day over 25 and has about as much body fat as a half-starved dog. Reindeer Games is the same way," and Tony slides Loki's box of data next to Thor's, holding the tablet between himself and Bruce. "Weighs slightly more, is a _fully_ -starved dog in terms of body fat, and is only an inch or so shorter. What does all of this tell you?"

"That their entire skeletal and muscular construction is extremely dense and warrants a very large caloric intake in order to sustain properly," Dr. Banner replies. "These guys also grew up in a warrior society; it sounds like fighting is the thing to do on Asgard, though I much prefer that the food supply is the thing on the receiving end rather than myself."

"Not arguing there," Stark agrees, tapping out various notations on the tablet's on-screen keyboard.

At that moment, Loki walks through the lounge entrance, the warrior Sif stepping in time with the Trickster. Their voices are quiet, foreign words garbled in Tony and Bruce's ears, neither looking up from their conversation as they head for the kitchen.

"My poor refrigerator," Tony laments, and Bruce snickers into his glass of water.

"You know, that's another thing that gets me," the brunet continues. "The Aliens-Three have their own language that they use with each other, but then they speak perfectly intelligible English to the rest of us with no problems whatsoever, pop culture references aside. Do they come out of the womb speaking everything under the sun? Wait, don't answer that, these guys are weird enough without us knowing how they reproduce."

"I don't know Tony," Bruce laughs quietly, "listening to alien-space-god-viking is a lot more interesting than some of the stuff you play in the lab."

"You're lucky my ego is so huge or else I might have been _hurt_."

"There is nothing _lucky_ about your ego."

"Wait, there they go, in the 'fridge!" Stark hisses, spinning the tablet around, fingers prepared to tap out a novel of notes if the need arises.

Sif pulls out a bowl of fruit (Tony has taken to setting aside entire rations for the _Aesir_ , attempting to separate normal, human-sized portions from alien-space-god-viking ones), peering cautiously at some of the foods. Loki instructs her in not-English, showing her how to peel away the skin of a banana. The warrior has only been to earth a few times before, apparently working on the ultimate long-distance relationship with the slowly-healing Trickster (Tony also suspects Loki's amazingly-stoic-but-always-slightly-nervous attitude has something to so with the woman's visits and the not-so-subtle soundproofing recently installed in the _Aesir_ section of the Tower).

"Alright, I definitely heard Loki say 'banana'; although it sounded more like _'bjahiennbjhana'_ , so I'm going to assume they don't have those on Asgard," Tony mutters, typing what Bruce can only think of as a terrible bastardization of some legitimate word in the language of the _Aesir_. The two scientists watch as Sif turns the fruit around, studying it as if it were something she were about to kill, and Tony squirms as she makes what can only be a terribly inappropriate comment about its shape, eyes glittering with amusement as her finger traces it. Loki appears unfazed, teeth glimmering in his smile as he retorts, stealing a bite from the fruit, and Tony tries to spell out what sounds like _'hyallashameijofyokul'_ because it's totally rad, despite the situation.

"Please tell me two full-grown, space-god-alien-vikings did not just have an innuendo bedroom-eye exchange in my kitchen because of a _banana_ ," the billionaire whimpers quietly as he types.

"I'm more surprised about the fact that one of those words meant 'penis' and I can't for the life of me tell which one it was because they all sounded the same."

" _Not helping_ ," Tony seethes, noticing that Thor has added two more plates to his stack of empties and finally appears to be on his last one. Jane is still working on her single sandwich, but she has countless scientific papers spread out in front of her, so the brunet understands.

Both scientists silently observe as Loki reaches into an extensive cupboard, grabbing a clean plate from it and setting it on the counter before himself and Sif. They exchange more words in their native tongue (Tony adds _'lilltleyelljakyid'_ and _'theeksithyoud'_ to his terrible list because he thinks they sound exactly twenty percent cooler than all the others) as the Trickster spins the fully-stocked spice rack, plucking out various jars.

"Does Asgard not believe in natural flavors?" Tony whispers, and Bruce cringes because who the hell in their right mind puts horseradish, ginger and peppermint in the _same dish_? Loki motions for Sif to grab something from the refrigerator, and after a few sentences of gibberish, she emerges with a tightly-wrapped package.

"That's from the meat market, I know that drab paper anywhere," Bruce mentions, thankful the two _Aesir_ are engaged in conversation and have neither heard nor noticed the two watching scientists.

"Does Loki even know how to use the oven or the stove? Thor only just got the grill down a few weeks ago," Stark wonders aloud, reluctantly remembering the ordeal. Apparently in Asgard, the bigger the roasting fire, the better; not so on earth (or Tony's roof, where he had insisted Thor learn). The Trickster tears the paper open to reveal thick cubes of beef, Sif sprinkling the various spices over them on the plate as Loki discards the wrapping (recycling is also a really big deal on Asgard, for which Tony is extremely grateful because that's one less thing he has to explain).

"Oh God, are they going to, oh man did she, and he, oh for _fuck's sake_ -" Tony's sentence splinters into nothingness as they watch the _Aesir_ consume the meat very delicately, and very _raw_.

"I don't know what's better: watching them do things, or watching your reactions to them doing things," Bruce says, attempting to hide his snickering in his glass of water. Loki and Sif are talking animatedly now, seated next to each other, fingers and lips coated in blood as if it were a perfectly normal, everyday occurence.

"I don't know if I'm watching two grown, civilized...," and the billionaire's hands make futile motions in the air as he searches for sufficient words, " _beings_ , or two bloodthirsty, savage creatures who are actually just posing as grown, civilized beings."

"At the end of the day, they're still _aliens_ ," Bruce reiterates Tony's earlier words. "Maybe the rawism thing is popular on Asgard. And you were the one who wanted to observe them in the first place, remember that."

"Alright, I've kept my mouth shut until now," Tony begins, motioning with a hand towards the bloodthirsty _Aesir_ and addressing them directly, "but I can't any longer. What the hell is _that_?" The others in the room look up at his words, Natasha and Clint pausing their fierce game of virtual table-tennis and Thor and Jane looking up from their own plates.

"You are familiar with the concept of eating, are you not?" Loki inquires, as if Tony has just asked the stupidest question in the Nine Realms. "Or is your mouth generally used for purposes other than such?" Bruce snickers along with the rest of the room's occupants, and the billionaire huffs ( _are you fucking kidding me, variation two_ , Bruce thinks).

"I'll have you know Pepper is fully familiar with and fully appreciative of my mouth's other capabilities," and Bruce is truly thankful the CEO is on a plane back to the Tower and not actually _in_ it at the moment. "And second of all, who're the ones consuming raw cow at my kitchen island like wild animals?"

"In the midst of war, cooking is an unnecessary expense of energy, time, and resources," Sif explains, popping another bloody cube into her mouth. "It is only done when it can be afforded; as such, it is just as common to eat food that is raw as it is to eat it cooked."

"Your adverse reaction to our method of consumption tells me this is not common practice for humans," Loki continues, taking a large bite out of his own cube and licking blood from his fingers like a cat at cream.

"A few hundred thousand years ago it was," Tony retorts, "but nowadays we'll just get really sick and, depending on your access to sufficient medical care, potentially die."

"How unfortunate" the Trickster drawls, but Tony can tell by the gleam in his eyes and the glint of his bloody teeth that the alien doesn't mean it one bit, the asshole. Both of them have a clear view of Loki's old helmet mounted above the fireplace, and the billionaire nonchalantly shrugs ever-so in its direction.

"My only adverse reaction to this entire situation is that you find horseradish, ginger, and peppermint an appealing combination," Bruce pipes up. "How can that possibly taste anything other than terrible?"

"It tastes wonderful," the warrior woman replies, taking the last cube of meat for herself with a wink.

Tony groans, and Bruce is about to start reading that scientific paper he had meant to start over an hour ago until a thought pops into his head.

"By the way, we saw the little innuendo thing with the banana," the gamma specialist begins. "Which of those words was the one for 'penis'?

"If it's _'hyallashameijofyokul'_ ," Tony whines, "I'm gonna scream."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which loki nearly dies because of food. tony cooked it, so it's not in the least surprising. surprisingly serious, with some silliness thrown in.

"Oh my God, is he _sniffing_ her? Seriously? Is that how alien-space-god-vikings check each other out?"

Tony and Pepper are side-by-side on a couch, meaning the billionaire is laying across Pepper's lap as the CEO taps out emails on her laptop that just so happens to balance perfectly on his back. His eyes are trained on the huge balcony outside the glass wall panels, fingers furiously darting away on his electronic handy dandy notebook. Loki and Sif are perched on one of the concrete ledges out on the terrace, the Trickster's nose buried in her hair and the crook of her neck, the sun ruby-red and brilliant before them. The sky is rainbow-bright and darted with clouds, and Tony likens the view to a painter's palette that fell into the hands of a toddler, and was maybe thrown up on at one point and then got into a losing battle with a dog.

Pepper likes to call it a sunset, and leave it at that.

"I still can't believe you're doing this." the redhead sighs, firing off one email only to begin another (Pepper has 99 problems at the moment and all of them are either Tony Stark or his company).

"It's for _science_ , Pepper," the billionaire whines. "Science!"

"Spying on two people who are in a romantic setting and who have no idea you're watching is _science_?"

"I'm _observing_ ," the brunet emphasizes observing with all the grace of a five-year-old. "Studying, if you will."

" _Spying_ ," Pepper repeats, and the genius can practically hear the italics.

"Lie down before you hurt yourself," Tony quips, flicking lists and columns of notes around on the tablet's screen in a state of disorganized chaos. Pepper wonders when the hell he managed to see The Lion King between robots and MIT and saving the world half a dozen times or so, but only raises a brow in mild surprise.  
"Is that an invitation, Mr. Stark?" and damn, he loves it when she does the bossy thing.

"There's a party in my pants and you are the only one on the guest list," Tony says and fuck, it's a terrible, _terrible_ line but Pepper laughs anyway, closing the lid of her laptop and setting it on the table as the billionaire sits up from her lap.

"I'll forgive that exceedingly ridiculous response if you promise not to do any more spying while I'm around," the CEO begins, tilting the brunet's chin down to meet her eyes. "I don't want to have to suffer second-hand embarrassment if your own stupidity gets you in trouble with two very powerful and very intimidating aliens."

"To err is human, Pepper," the brunet remarks into her ear, pulling the CEO into his arms as the duo makes their way towards the elevator, stepping inside.

"I, however, am a genius."

 

*

 

"That's all?"

"What, were you expecting a Snorlax?"

"Snorlax? What manner of beast is that?"

"Nevermind, just eat the damn roast; there's one more sitting pretty in the oven for you, and enough potatoes and vegetables to start a farm to replace the one that had to be razed to the ground to feed you."

Tony sighs, staring down at his own plate of food, freakishly meager in comparison to Thor's gargantuan four-course setting that would be gone entirely before any of the rest of them had finished a single helping. Movement that _wasn't_ Thor practically destroying the roast in front of him caught the billionaire's eye, and he snapped his fingers as if disciplining a small, rowdy animal.

"Get your damn paws out of the wings, Katniss," he snips, "or I'll have JARVIS program every door in this tower to shut on your grubby little fingers."

"You wouldn't do that to little ol' me," Barton whines, eyebrows titled in a faux-innocent expression _(kiss my fabulous cupid ass, variation two_ ) as he rips a bite out of a stolen wing. "You need my fingers."

"No, _Natasha_ needs your fingers, but that's besides the point."

"Damn right I do," the aforementioned woman quips, the first words she's spoken since diving into her plate of cheesy mashed potatoes and pizza rolls. Tony has a special respect for the Black Widow, partially because she could castrate him with only her hands if she wanted to and partially because she consumes pizza rolls like a drug addict who hasn't had a hit in months. (But mostly because he likes his bits.)

"While I appreciate the friendly banter and apparent team-bonding," Steve declares over his own rather large helping of food, only on plate two compared to Thor's almost-clean fourth, "has anyone seen Banner lately? It's not like him to miss dinner, no matter how engaging his current project."

As if on cue, the gamma scientist walks through the large doors, a bundle of papers and a tablet held under his arm.

"Sorry I'm late, having some fun in the lab wit—are those chicken wings?"

"Oh God not another one," Tony whines, crumpling his napkin and flinging it haphazardly at Hawkeye, who plucks it off his plate without missing a beat and snatches an unguarded pizza roll from Natasha's.

"They're for the _Æsir_ first, because I think it's time we introduced them to the wonders of buffalo sauce and bone bowls." The brunet pauses, looking around. "Speaking of the other aliens, where the hell are they? Usually they're in here slobbering before plates are even on the table; it's like they can smell food before it's even cooked."

"We do not _slobber_ , friend Stark," Thor states, attempting to seem stern, but the large forkful of swirly, multi-colored pasta that's halfway to his mouth ruins the effect.

"I just had them in the lab, actually," Bruce explains, helping himself to the various green plates of vegetarian items. "I asked Sif if she would let me do some testing on her neurotransmitters and brain function, and she sort of bullied Loki into letting me do the same to him."

"Wait, you got both of them in the lab wearing the headgear without any threats or bribes for designer clothes?" Tony asks, stupefied. The billionaire tosses his fork onto his empty plate, throwing his hands up by his ears. "Goodbye friends, I am gone."

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Clint says between mouthfuls of cheese puffs, Natasha stealing a handful from his plate.

"The reason I don't get threatening warnings when I ask is because I'm not an _asshole_ ," Bruce explains, covering his already-overloaded salad in walnuts. "Also, the Loki-shaped rug on the penthouse floor is a good deterrent."

Before Tony can open his mouth and dig his grave any deeper, Loki and Sif slip through the doors, talking animatedly in the familiar souds of alien-space-god-viking (Pepper gave up on convincing Tony to ask them what their language's actual name is long ago.) He quiets when his eyes meet those at the table, though the warrior beside him says something in their native tongue, pulling him towards the table with a sly smile. Tony only wishes he had a camera on his person at all times, a bionic Kodak eyeball or something that would let him capture and relive every moment where Loki's space girlfriend led him around like a lost puppy. ( _Youtube would implode on itself_ , he thinks.)

"I had a surprise for you both and Thor, but I'm tempted to let him have them all because you cheated on me with Bruce and my lab."

"Surprise?" Sif asks, shoveling cheesy mashed potatoes onto her plate and helping herself to an end of Thor's second roast. Unfortunately, the warrior beams like a two-hundred-watt lightbulb when something catches her interest and Tony is helpless to refuse her.

"It's time you were introduced to the wonders of American chicken wings," Tony says as he brings a large, seemingly endless bowl of them to the table and sets them down in front of the Aliens Three. "A cultural staple, if you will," and a snicker sounds from the other end of the table.

"Shut up, Charlotte," Tony retorts. "Since the three of you seem to enjoy creating absolutely disgusting flavor combinations, I made sure all of them were extra spicy, although there are plain ones if any of you decide to be sissies."

Thor is the first to try one, the wing looking comically, pitifully tiny in Thunder God's enormous hands as Sif follows.

"These are delicious, Stark, and definitely spicy," Thor says, tossing the bones into the extra bowl Tony set aside. "What they lack in substance they make up for in their heat."

"Try one, Loki," Sif nudges the Trickster, who reaches into the bowl and delicately plucks a wing between his fingers (grudgingly curious even though they were prepared by _Tony Stark_ of all people.)

"They're not poisoned, Frosty, I made them for everyone to enjoy."

Loki only raises a groomed brow in response before furrowing them, tilting his head in curiosity. "Are they supposed to prickle the skin when touched? Or is this just part of the enjoyment?"

"Shut up and eat it, asshat."

The God of Mischief takes an experimental bite, face screwing up in distaste as he sets the offending food down, reaching for the glass of water by his plate. "I thought you said it _wasn't_ poisoned," he drawls, pupils cat-thin in what Tony has studied long enough to know is irritation. "I have tasted many things that burn, but none so violently as that."

"But you eat horseradish and wasabi and sometimes both at the same time," Tony responds, genuinely curious. "I don't understand how a little hot sauce has you sweating."

"Literally," Steve comments from down the table. "Are you feeling alright?"

Tony notices that the God's complexion is paler than usual, and a thin sheen of sweat covers his face. His eyes are unfocused, staring blankly at his plate, breathing growing more shallow with every rise and fall of his chest.

"Loki?" Sif puts a hand on his arm, nails digging into the leather and cloth that cover it. Thor says more words, unintelligible to the humans, and Tony stands up when the God puts a hand to his wordless throat, air labored through his lungs.

"JARVIS, prep everything in the med lab, we have a problem."

The AI responds accordingly as the other Avengers sit up from the table, all of their faces creased with worry. Sif presses a hand to Loki's forehead, pupils thin and eyes wide as she feels his skin.

"His skin is burning hot, as if with fever," the warrior says, and when the Trickster attempts to move, hand held to his stomach as if he may vomit, the God's body nearly hits the floor before Thor and Sif catch him. One arm each around him, Tony guides them towards the elevator and punches the button for the laboratories. Bruce joins them, leaving the remaining Avengers with a nod, knowing they'll be following as soon as the lift returns.

The God's breath is uneven, short and shallow and then long and labored, eyes unfocused and pupils wide. The gamma scientist tugs at the material that covers his chest, feeling the Trickster's heartbeat rapid against his chest, skin deathly pale and slick with sweat.

"His body is overheating like crazy," Bruce says, "and it's especially dangerous because he's a Frost Giant; he's not made for this kind of internal heat. His organs are going to start cooking themselves if we don't get his temperature down." Sif makes a strangled noise in her throat, and Thor says something to her in their alien tongue, voice softly determined, hopeful.

The elevator dings, doors opening to the medical laboratory as both _Æsir_ carry Loki between their bodies, laying him down on one of the examination beds. Tony's eyes flicker with worry as the God lies limp like a ragdoll, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the sound of his pained breaths too apparent in the silent, spacious room. Sif and Thor back away as Bruce strips the layers of leather and cloth from Loki's body, tilting his head back to open his airway as much as possible while Tony digs in one of the glass cabinets, giving orders to the AI.

"JARVIS, I need every medical profile on Loki we have and every anaphylactic in this tower," Stark commands, rushing to the Trickster's side with three auto-injectors and a bag of clear fluid in his hand.

"It has to be some kind of allergic reaction," Bruce says, sliding Loki's pants from his legs, leaving him in his dark-colored undershorts as Tony stabs the first injection into his thigh. "It happened too fast for it to be anything else," the scientist reasons, hooking the God of Mischief to the various instruments surrounding the bed. He takes the clear bag from Tony's side and attaches it to the various needles in Loki's arm, hoping the ibuprofen lysine will counteract his fever.

"Considering how most earth drugs affect these guys, if epinephrine works then he's gonna need all three of these," Tony responds, jabbing the last injector into Loki's other leg. The monitors and screens surrounding them show no signs of improvement however, and JARVIS' voice sounds over the speakers.

"His body appears to be ignoring the adrenaline, sir; his Frost Giant physiology processes the chemical differently and for different purposes than humans' and it does not seem to have the same effect."

"Fuck," Tony spits, "Antihistamines won't have any effect on him if they barely work for human anaphylaxis, and methylene blue might help him breath but it won't lower his fever," the brunet says, running a frantic hand through his hair, turning at the sight of the remaining Avengers gathered outside the elevator, worry and fear clawed into their eyes. Sif buries her head in Thor's shoulder as the Thunder God holds her, Loki's vital signs beginning to slip on the monitors.

"It has to be something he ate," Bruce states, "was there anything at the table he hasn't eaten before?"

"There can't be; he's had vegetables, he's had fruit, bread, pork, beef, chicken—that's it! The wings, they're made with hot sauce!" Tony exclaims, grabbing a pair of needles and rushing to the door of one of the tech rooms in the very back of the lab, and Bruce understands his line of thought before the billionaire even finishes it.

"It's the capsaicinoids!" he yells to Tony, "It's an adverse reaction causing his body to overheat because his physiology isn't designed to handle them and has no natural resistance or defense. He needs something to cool his body down purely by temperature alone."

The billionaire runs out of the back rooms, two large needles full of clear liquid in one hand. He presses one into the skin of Loki's arm, and the effect is almost instantaneous.

"Liquid nitrogen, from the computer cooling systems," Tony says quickly as Bruce scans the monitors and screens, watching as Loki's temperature begins to drop, heart rate slowing steadily. "I'll give him one more for good measure and he should be fine."

The brunet slides the second needle under Loki's skin, and both scientists breath sighs of relief as the Trickster's condition stabilizes, the sound of his breath no longer harsh and thin.

"JARVIS, a note," Bruce says. "Remind one of us to make a liquid nitrogen auto-injector at some point in the future."

"We're gonna call it the Nitropen and it's not going to make me any money because nobody but Reindeer Games is ever going to need it. And remind me to install an entirely separate walk-in refrigerator and freezer for him," Tony adds. "And make me a list of everything with capsaicin in it so he doesn't so much as look a container of peppers ever again."

Tony spins his chair to meet the hesitantly hopeful gazes of the others by the elevator, and then Sif and Thor, equally as anxious.

"Now that that's over with, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving. Anyone up for wings?"

 

*

 

Sif sits at Loki's bedside, her layers of nightclothes warm in the cool air of the medical laboratory, lowered for Loki's sake. The dim lights are easy on his reddened eyes, pupils wide and dark after sleeping for hours. The warrior presses a kiss to his long, wild hair, smelling of pines and fire and the scent of the shampoo and soap Bruce and Tony had used to wash the sweat from his unconscious body.

"Are you feeling alright, Loki?" Bruce asks quietly, keeping the atmosphere of the lab gentle in the evening hours as he gives the needle and IV tubes a once-over. The God of Mischief only nods, unable to speak.

"We checked out your throat while you were under," he says, tapping notes silently onto a tablet in the other bedside chair. "The capsaicin did a number on it, but your body appears to be healing the damage already, so you should be fine within a day or so."

"You know I really _wasn't_ trying to kill you," Tony says from the other side of the room, sterilizing needles and cleaning off the counters. Loki only huffs a sharp breath in displeasure, and Sif laughs into his hair.

"I could have just let you melt and be done with it, but then we'd have to deal with your space girlfriend and I don't think my tower, or even this _planet_ , could handle it." Tony finishes up at the counters, wiping his hands in a thick towel as he wanders towards the bed. "And besides, you're not all that bad since you've learned your lesson from your last temper tantrum. I even got a nice wall hanging out of it with your helmet, I can't really complain."

"His voice may be gone, but I'm pretty certain that despite his condition, Loki's still got some powerful magick up his hospital gown sleeve," Bruce warns the billionaire with a tilt to his lips, standing up from the chair and tucking the tablet under his arm. "You might want to be careful."

"You know careful and I aren't speaking to each other," Tony says, both scientists heading for the elevator. "Have fun kids," he grins as the door shuts, leaving the lab silent but for the gentle hum of its machines.

Sif nuzzles her nose into the God of Mischief's hair, pressing a kiss to his cheek, cool against her skin. She gives silent thanks for the rather large beds Tony has supplied the medical laboratory with, and curls into Loki's side, one arm over his chest as he brushes a kiss into her hair. She lies awake after he has fallen asleep, hand over his own, and thinks of the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _charlotte_ \- tony is referencing charlotte the spider from the book _charlotte's web_. tony thinks hard about these things, obviously.
> 
>  _ibuprofen lysine_ the lysine salt of ibuprofen, it is the intravenous form of the drug.
> 
>  _antihistamines and methylene blue_ \- antihistamines (both h1 and h2), while commonly used and assumed effective based on theoretical reasoning, are poorly supported by evidence, and they are not believed to have an effect on airway edema or spasm. methylene blue has been used in those not responsive to other measures due to its presumed effect of relaxing smooth muscle.
> 
>  _capsaicinoids_ \- capsaicin is the active component of chili peppers, which are plants belonging to the genus capsicum. it is an irritant for mammals, including humans, and produces a sensation of burning in any tissue with which it comes into contact. capsaicin and several related compounds are called capsaicinoids and are produced as secondary metabolites by chili peppers, probably as deterrents against certain herbivores and fungi.
> 
> as a frost giant, loki's system would probably not be designed to consume foods with high piqancy, and so could suffer an allergic reaction where his body would not be able to process the heat-causing compounds and abate their effects.
> 
>  _liquid nitrogen and computers_ \- used in coolant systems for machinery and computers to prevent overheating and temperature damage, and even as part of food preparation. if asgardians can withstand immense cosmic radiation from being crazy far out in space, a little liquid nitrogen probably wouldn't hurt.


End file.
